


singularities

by kihanmon



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kihanmon/pseuds/kihanmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a miracle is what she calls it now. later, accord knows, it will be a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

accord awakens on the precipice of the past, in the middle of the war that had gripped midgard for years and years.  _for as long as anyone can remember_ , she notes, much later. but for now, it is just her and a woman– white hair, pink eyes. albino. at this moment, she is still a mere woman, a child sold into whoredom by a disgusted adult.

_ah_ , accord thinks, her fingers tightening around the handle of her case, a thousand years of time flickering behind orbs of glass.  _of course. mutation wasn’t desirable in a child at this point in history._

it’s the sneer that pulls her out of it, while her mind whirls between past and present– was, is, will be. the woman’s lip curling in a way accord had never seen before catching her attention. something filled with hate, as usual, but a tinge of sadness dancing at the edges as well-- an anomaly, accord thinks.

“you come to just fucking stare, or what,” the woman spits in her rough way, eyes narrowing. suspicion will be a constant with them. accord knows. “i’m not some sideshow freak you can just look at– well, without paying, at least.”

accord blinks before, “oh! oh, no, i’m sorry. i just wanted to ask you a question, but couldn’t find the words.”

“oh? well you get two before my break is over.” her head jerks towards the door, where boisterous men are heard. nervous women’s tinny laughter can be heard, too, quaking, “you understand.”

“of course!” accord’s voice is tinny as well, she notices, and the gears in her back stutter. she smiles, readjusts her glasses. clears her throat to cover the sound. “i’d like to ask your name, and what you think of the war?” hastily added at the second suspicious look: “it’s for an article! i’d like to get an opinion no one’s heard.”

the woman raises her eyebrows, nods. disbelief, but bemusement. “rose is what i’m called,” ( _but not how i feel_ , accord finishes) “and the war? the war brings in money from men and women who still have enough to spend– and it will never end, unless some fucking miracle happens.”

(a miracle is what she calls it now. later, accord knows, it will be a curse.)

accord smiles, offers her hand, “thank you for answering my questions, rose, i really appreciate it!”

it takes a moment, but rose takes her hand. one shake before letting go. “yeah, sure,” she says, lazily. “anytime, i guess.”

and they part ways, never to see each other again until it becomes pertinent once more.


	2. Chapter 2

it’s only when the intoner sisters begin to retreat into the towering cathedral church that the recorder dares to show herself, peering around a stone pillar that the demon-dragon nearly decimated in its earlier battle. accord surveys the area, glass spheres rolling in their sockets– fingers tightening on the handle of her luggage trunk:  _ah_ , she thinks.  _branch a, this must be it_.

she glances down, only then, to see the still-twitching hand of zero’s severed arm– leaking out it’s last weak pulses of blood –resting at the toes of her boots. a pause, she takes– a moment, briefly to think. to assess, to calculate. would this be considered intervention? meddling? the recorder did not know, but she stoops down nonetheless.

with a fluid motion, overly fluid one might think, accord plucks the arm from the pavement– giving a brief, slight sliver of a smile as the fingers give one final twitch as she laces her own with them. overly warm, overly tender was the recorder’s touch, as if one foul move could turn this limb to dust, to ash between her fingers.

the recorder rises, places her lips against the knuckles of the hand, and disappears into thin air as the cheerful voice of two lilts in the distance along with the boisterous, obnoxious laugh of her disciple.

(accord hopes they treasure their happiness. she hopes they all do.)


	3. Chapter 3

within the howling, icy winds of the land of mountains, there are two kisses pressed to the corners of zero’s mouth – gentle, chaste, and a flash of teeth; zero gives the third one, not chaste nor gentle but with that same flash of ivory – but accord chuckles, anyway, lacing her fingers with the intoner’s.

they both fall into the snow, laughing; the recorder’s is bright, tinny, gears clicking together– zero’s is a harsh, barking thing, no levity or light.

(accord grazes her lips across the tops of zero’s prosthetic knuckles, feels them twitch beneath her touch, and smiles, no teeth.)

.

.

.

.

(zero’s grin is razor thin at the way accord leans into her touches, at the way her lips curl into something satisfied and warm when she feels zero’s tongue against them)


	4. Chapter 4

as the grotesquerie queen descends upon tokyo, unholy tongue lolling in stone artifice, the recorder stands upon the tower– watching, as a man and his dragon follows her through the portal. watching as the bells toll, a ringing that echos across this monochrome city.

it’s not long before a warm feeling of recognition blooms in the recorder’s chest and she thinks,  _it’s good to see you_ , but she is not speaking for herself. nor the recorder before her, nor the recorder before that one. hundreds of recorders came and went but– accord speaks through her.

cheerful as ever, a smile that isn’t her own stretches across her features, “i told you we’d meet again, zero.”

amongst a funeral dirge for the world: “i knew we’d meet again.” 


End file.
